Raesinia passed through their circle and nearly gagged at the thick stench of powder. Clouds of evil black smoke still billowed upward, but she could tell the explosion had indeed been centered on the royal box, where she’d been standing only minutes earlier. Guards and deputies rushed around in the murk, helping the injured or shouting unintelligible orders.

“Help!” The voice was high and terrified, a boy’s. Emil. “Someone help!”

Raesinia darted forward and caught sight of him amid the billowing smoke. He was limping across the cratered flagstones, desperately tugging a limp body by one arm. Tears streamed from his eyes, cutting channels through a layer of soot.

“Please help,” he said, voice going faint. “Mama won’t get up. I think she’s hurt.”

Emil’s right hand was fastened tight around his mother’s, and a patter of blood dripped from a gash on his calf. His skin was milk white under the gray soot. Raesinia took one look at Claudia and averted her eyes; the ground beneath her was a slick of red, as though someone had spilled a bucket of paint.

“Your Majesty!”

Sothe appeared at Raesinia’s side, with a trio of Patriot Guards behind her. She’s always had a gift for taking charge in desperate situations. “Help the boy!” Raesinia barked.

Emil screamed as one of the guards pulled Claudia’s limp hand from his grasp, then sagged into a dead faint. The guard caught him, looking uncertain.

“Up the street,” Sothe said. “There’s an aid station forming. He needs bandaging.” The guard snapped to obey, and Sothe turned to Raesinia. “Your Majesty. You have to come with me.”

“I should . . . help.” Raesinia stared at the carnage, feeling hypnotized.

This was meant for me. If she hadn’t decided to leave in a huff, she’d have been standing on the platform when the bomb went off. More people were dead because they had been standing next to her at the wrong time. Like Ben. Like Faro.

“Raesinia,” Sothe hissed in her ear. “Come on. The guards can handle things now that I’ve given them a kick in the ass. We should get you somewhere safe.”

Raesinia looked up at Sothe and felt things snap into focus.

“Where’s Maurisk?”

*   *   *

She kept her eyes on his face, from the moment she stepped into the café the Directory had commandeered as shelter from the disaster. Maurisk had always been better at flaunting his passions than concealing them. His reaction wasn’t much—a brief indrawn breath, a narrowing of the eyes—but it was enough.

He knew this was coming. He didn’t expect to see me alive.